pocket brain

After crossing many ways   A man arrived at a clear and long road Full of calmness and light The man walked the road  Listening to the birds and receiving the strong sunlight With his chest full of songs and the mouth full with smiles. The man walked days and days the long road Which was lost in an uniform planeness. He walked days and days… The few birds flew away Only the sun stayed The strong sun that burnt his pale face. After long time he remembered to look for a source But the sun had dried all the sources. He observed the horizon And saw that the road went beyond, much beyond all the things. He observed the sky And did not see any cloud. And the man remembered other paths. They were hard, but the water sang in all the sources They were steep, but the flowers embalmed the pure air The feet bleed on rough soil, but the friendly tree guarded his sleep. There was storm and there was plenty There was shade and there was light. The man looked at the clear and desert road for a mom

Who could explain it? Do I like him that much because I need something to hold on to, or has everything happened `cause I liked him too much? It's just as complicated as life, the universe, and everything, but we'll end up having dinner at that restaurant, where it all ends.

Enquanto tomo meu café da manhã a mosca me observa, esfregando suas patinhas. Mosca maldita, me lembra que a vida é pura oportunidade.

Last night I dreamed I was at a Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds concert. It  happened in a small venue, and after  it had finished all the other girls went to the backstage. The  place became pretty empty so I sat on a stool and stayed with  my head down, thinking about life. Suddenly someone came  at me and when I looked up it was Nick, he then took my  hand and gave me a long, sad, hurtful kiss. It was weird and  not good at all. I felt as if he was trying to tell me that  sometimes we want something because we think it's  going to be really good, but when it finally happens it's  actually really bad, and that's why life is so full of  sorrow...

Through the mists of my mind I see lips I've never  kissed  And all the things I've never done or ever will  Between times, lost spaces of now

saudade de escrever coisas bregas como: o vinho é o combustível meu desejo, o comburente Fire walk with me